Cecilia felt kind of proud of herself for not going straight for her drink. She had to take the little victories where she could. "It's gonna be fine, Owen," she assured him. "Great, even. You've cooked for me before. Actually, at this point I think you've cooked for me more than Jack has. Not counting parties, anyway." Suddenly she was remembering that dress up party Daphne had thrown, and bringing Owen food after. He'd just gotten out of the shower, hair damp, the whole room smelling amazing and -- Goddammit, stop that, she told herself. Bad thoughts.